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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29055021">Tengu Trouble</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwardshirt/pseuds/Backwardshirt'>Backwardshirt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Finding Folklore [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bleach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>After TTYBW, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, GrimmIchi - Freeform, Grimmjow in a gigai, Ichigo discovers something about Grimmjows gigai, Japanese Mythology &amp; Folklore, Kisuke stop experimenting with gigais, M/M, Tengu, and likes it, the birds need revenge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:22:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29055021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwardshirt/pseuds/Backwardshirt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Grimmjow managed to drag Ichigo from the mountain, back to Urahara's with little trouble. Ichigo's head is still in a bit of a daze, until he notices something on Grimmjow's arm.  Was that...?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo, implied Kisuke/Yoruichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Finding Folklore [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>141</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Eeyyy another one for this silly series! This might be a little less understandable without having read at least the previous part, but who knows! Certainly not me :) Thank you for putting up with my nonsense, I appreciate it! :D I referenced a post i found on tumblr specifically: https://incorrect-grimmichi.tumblr.com/page/23<br/>And I (just remembered 'cuz I'm a forgetful goober) referenced a tag Pandelion made on their story "A kiss with a fist (better than none)" (read it--it's amazinggggg). Just a unique tag they made, nothing more. </p><p> </p><p>This one was a bit bigger so i broke it into two chapters! Also if you're averse to body hair, this may not be the chapter for you, as Kisuke is a bastard who likes to...modify gigai's.<br/>Enjoy:) :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ichigo’s head hurt, like Yuzu had hit him on the head with her wooden spoon of divine retribution a few times in succession. She’d done it before, and if he didn’t get his own place soon, where he could make stupid decisions with far fewer consequences, she’d do it again. It wasn’t always his fault Urahara did stupid stuff to him—<em>I mean, it usually…mostly is…but still, at least the horns were cool.</em></p><p>Whatever, it didn’t matter right now, anyway.</p><p> Currently, he was sitting at the low table in Urahara’s living room, Grimmjow to his right, and Urahara on the opposite side, facing him. A steaming cup of what he sincerely hoped was tea sat before him, but honestly, it could very well be anything. The man was no Gordon Ramsay. While his head was still fuzzy, his skin felt like pin pricks, all the way down his arms, even to his legs and feet; wiggling his toes brought ten thousand not-so-gently stabbing needles down on the moving parts. What a disaster of a day.</p><p>He was exhausted and he didn’t even remember the most exciting part. What did the Kitsune look like? Grimmjow had said it was a female wearing red, and, as he expected, was generally, completely unhelpful in his descriptions. Ichigo asked if she was tall. <em>No</em>t <em>really.</em> Pretty? <em>No.</em> What color was her hair? <em>Doesn’t matter.</em> Did she look like a fox? <em>Dunno.</em> Stuff like that. Irritating and unhelpful. Mostly irritating.</p><p>Urahara tapped his scrawny fingers on the table, snapping Ichigo’s thoughts somewhere beyond his head. He had the vial of fire in his jacket pocket, still a little too chilled to bother removing it; as his fingers passed over it, he felt the swirling and crackling of the fire. He was curious of how it actually worked. Didn’t fire need oxygen to survive? How was it getting any in that little jar? And how was the corked top not getting set on fire? He didn’t know what fox fire was, but apparently, it was more fox, than fire.</p><p>“So what was with that fog, anyway?” Ichigo asked, rubbing at his temples, forcing his hand away from the vial.</p><p>It had gotten dark a couple hours ago, as Grimmjow had pushed him through the shoten doors, head throbbing, vision blurry, body still warm, but at least he knew where he was and who he was with. Grimmjow’s rough man-handling was present from the foot of the mountain until the very moment Ichigo’s ass hit the pillow he was still sitting on. Urahara had gotten Tessai to feed the both of them whatever left overs were in the fridge. Ichigo was pretty sure he’d had a nap in that time, but wasn’t entirely sure—he was still tired. He needed to get back home soon.</p><p>Grimmjow shrugged in his seat at the table, not bothering to look at him.</p><p>“Don’t you remember anything?” Urahara asked, resting his fuzzy chin on a hand.</p><p>“Not really. I just remember feeling really warm.”</p><p>It wasn’t a total lie. He remembered going up the steps, and even the red torii gate with thick, swirling fog spilling from between its tall beams. And he kind of remembered being at the base of the stairs, being dragged by the back of his shirt like it was a collar by Grimmjow’s warm hand. Like he said, man-handling. Grimmjow wasn’t gentle with him, even when he protested. In fact, it probably made it worse.</p><p>Ichigo didn’t remember what happened on the in between, but he was holding onto a vial full of fox-fire, so that had to mean they were at least moderately successful, though it probably cost a small amount of pride. Though who lost the most was still up for debate, as Grimmjow hadn’t looked him in the eye since.</p><p>“Made ya get all handsy. Kept touchin’ me and shit,” Grimmjow finally offered up after a couple minutes of silence had passed. Ichigo tensed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That explains that, then.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>We thought you were going to strip him of his shirt completely.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Please go back to sleep. Both of you.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Ah, sorry about that.” No wonder Grimmjow hadn’t looked at him since the bottom of the winding staircase. Ichigo felt heat rise on his face as he chewed his bottom lip, embarrassed, for him <em>and</em> Grimmjow. That must’ve made him pretty uncomfortable. He was still pretty averse to all kinds of touching, the past couple days notwithstanding, they were outliers and should not be counted in the grand scheme of…Grimmjow.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Then again, didn’t he basically say I could lick him yesterday?</em>
</p><p> <strong>He wasn’t allowed to finish his sentence.</strong></p><p>
  <em>So you were listening!</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>I’m always listening, Ichigo. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>If you could stop talking now, that would be so, so great.  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Urahara looked curious, maybe even a little confused, which was concerning. If he was confused, the rest of them were screwed up, down, and sideways.</p><p>“You mean the fox fog made Ichigo more physical with <em>you?</em>” Urahara asked, looking directly at the arrancar, sitting with his head now propped up by a hand resting on the table, long legs outstretched in the opposite direction of Ichigo, back turned to him. He could almost hear the man roll his eyes.  </p><p>“Did I stutter?”</p><p>“Interesting.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Ichigo pretended not pick up the slightly interested lilt in his voice. Even so, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the next thing out of the shopkeeper’s whore-mouth. Maybe he should down the drink in front of him, just for a distraction, boiled Gatorade be damned. Hell, maybe it would taste good this time.  </p><p>“Well, usually—”</p><p>“Good, you’re back!” Yoruichi said with a toothy grin as she flung open the paper door that led to the shop. Where she’d been, Ichigo had no idea, but he was incredibly grateful for the interruption.</p><p>She was wearing her usual tight black turtleneck with a pair of leggings, ratty green socks pulled up to her knees, big toe sticking out of one, wiggling a little on the wooden floor. Crossing her legs as she flopped down beside the shopkeeper, he took out his fan and tapped it, closed, thoughtfully against his chin. She looked between the two men; grin still present on her devious face.</p><p>“What did you bring me this time?”</p><p>“We didn’t bring you anything, unless you’re gonna wipe fox fire on your lips.” Ichigo said to her, glancing at Urahara, who was still tapping away with his fan.</p><p>He had a guess as to why the fog didn’t draw him to the Kitsune seductress, but he really didn’t want the man to say it out loud—it would be so embarrassing. And as with anything dealing with that particular emotion, he’d almost rather be dead. All he could remember was feeling very…protected while he was out of it. Like arms were wrapped around him to stop him from doing something stupid or dangerous, and he knew those arms belonged to Grimmjow; whether it was metaphorical hands or physical hands, he guessed it didn’t <em>really</em> matter, but secretly, hoped it was physical.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Mine were, apparently.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>There is no ‘apparently’. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Why don’t you go stop White from setting a fire or something. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>While he wasn’t entirely sure what getting ‘handsy’ with the arrancar meant, he could guess, and honestly, for Grimmjow being…well, Grimmjow, he took the harassment pretty well, all things considered.</p><p>Yoruichi made a ‘gimmie’ motion with her hand, like a child asking for a new toy, rather than a grown woman wanting the jar of supernatural fox fire. And what would Urahara want with the stuff anyway? Ichigo wasn’t sure he wanted to know, if he was honest. But if it was for another one of his horrible experiments, Ichigo thought it was probably best if he held onto it for the time being. It may have been their ‘responsibility’ to get this jar, but Ichigo was prepared to run from them for a few more hours. The shopkeeper, or rather, Yoruichi, could wait.</p><p>It was Grimmjow who broke him from his thoughts, raising up his hand, the one still bound to Ichigo, and shook it in front of the pair. Though it bounced around in the air slightly, it was silent. Ichigo noticed for perhaps the first time that Grimmjow had his sleeves rolled up to a little past his elbows, pulling the cloth of the remainder of his sleeve tight over an impressive pair of biceps. <em>He should do that more often.</em></p><p>What he wasn’t expecting, was seeing small blue hairs running the length of his forearm, pink scars still very visible on his arms from the crow-not-crow, until it met the cuffed part of his sleeves. Ichigo rubbed his eyes and looked again. Nope—still here.  </p><p>“Has your gigai always had arm hair?” He blurted out as he swept his hand against the growth of the chained arm with no thoughts of personal safety. Grimmjow swatted at his hand as he turned towards him a little more, upper lip curled back, exposing a row of unnaturally sharp teeth.</p><p>“Don’t think I won’t knock your teeth down your throat now that yer not high on some doped-up fog,” he snapped out, clawing at his hand. <em>Well, at least he’s back to his normal, pissed off self. </em> Urahara chuckled, bringing a glare to Ichigo’s face.</p><p>“Yes, I tried to make his gigai as humanlike as possible, and that included the miniscule hair follicles that I artificially implanted in order for any type of body hair to grow.”</p><p>Seriously? Ichigo didn’t know that was even possible on a gigai. But why didn’t he notice it yesterday, when Grimmjow was like…<em>really</em> close?</p><p>Urahara continued, not noticing the look on Ichigo’s face, or perhaps because of said look.  </p><p>“Pretty neat, eh? The healing kido I used on his arms must’ve spurred the growth. It is a recent addition.”</p><p>Grimmjow rubbed at his arms a little, frown on his face, and then heeled at his eyes, like if he could go blind, that would fix all the problems. Urahara would probably just fix his vision and make it so he couldn’t blink again, the bastard.</p><p>But as he stared at the little blue hairs, Ichigo bit back the urge to ask if they were implanted <em>everywhere</em> with force on his tongue. <em>That</em> was a recipe for disaster in many forms.  </p><p>“Uh, okay. But…why?” He switched his gaze to Grimmjow, who clearly wasn’t enjoying any part of his life at the moment. “Does that mean you can grow a beard now?”</p><p>Yoruichi threw back her head with a raucous laugh. Grimmjow brought his face up, glaring, and frowned as he scratched his cheek with his not chained up hand.</p><p>“You think I’d let that idiot,” he nodded his hair towards Urahara who had his head cocked slightly to the side, reminding Ichigo of an innocent puppy, dopey grin on his face, “do something like this. To my face.” Ichigo shrugged.</p><p>“I mean, he did it to your arms. And some people want facial hair.”</p><p>Ichigo didn’t, of course. And he wasn’t saying that just because he couldn’t grow any to save his life. Before Isshin was a Shinigami, he must’ve been a goat. Or a wild boar. Hell, even a chinchilla—<em>those are pretty hairy, right?</em> <em>Don’t they like, bathe in dirt? It’s a matchmade in heaven. </em>Ichigo pointedly ignored the old man sighing into the recesses of his mind, shaking his head and kicking an unused part of brain matter. Probably the part that exploded when he first saw Grimmjow’s arm hair.</p><p>Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow at him, scowl set deep in his face. “I’m not one of those people.”</p><p>Ichigo nodded in agreement; he probably wouldn’t look bad with a beard, but imagining him with one was…weird. He preferred clean-shaven, anyway. Not that it mattered….</p><p>Regardless, no matter what he thought about the situation Grimmjow still had arm hair, Urahara was still most likely certifiably insane, though no psychologist with any sense of self-preservation would examine him, and Yoruichi still had her hand up, palm expecting the newest trinket the two men had went out and fetched for her like good little errand boys.</p><p>If Hell was in a different place, it would be this house.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, cut it out Ururu!”</p><p>Jinta’s words were high and kind of squeaky in pubescent anguish, as he raced from the direction of the kitchen, cutting across the living room where everyone had made camp. Ururu wasn’t far behind him, holding out something Ichigo couldn’t quite see in the dim light.</p><p>“The burn already hurts, you don’t need—h-hey, stop!”</p><p>He ran as she encroached onto his space, the yellow stick of something in her hands all…mushy looking and kind of gross. The red-head darted around the table as Ururu went the opposite way cutting him off, cradling his left arm. It looked a little red. The boy looked, panicked, at Urahara.</p><p>“Where’s Tessai? I need him to help heal my arm or Ururu is going to put more butter on it!” Swinging his head around, he glanced at Grimmjow before his eyes landed on Ichigo, and he smiled sheepishly.</p><p>“Oh, hi—don’t tell Yuzu about this!”</p><p>Ichigo nodded slowly as Jinta ran from the older girl, who indeed, held a full stick of butter up at the wrapped base, much like a weapon. Priorities. He almost felt sorry for him, but decided Yuzu should definitely know that her mutual crush was a complete moron, in hopes to discourage her pursuit. Though, she’d probably take it as more of a challenge. She was almost as hopeless as Ichigo was.</p><p>“Tch, that’s what he gets for trying to use that weird thing in the kitchen,” Grimmjow muttered beside him, propped back up on a palm, squishing his face a little. At least he looked like he wasn’t on the verge of biting anyone anymore.</p><p>“If I’m not mistaken, you’ve <em>also</em> burned yourself on the stove,” Yoruichi said, looking at him pointedly as she stretched her feet across the shopkeeper’s seat, who had gotten up and trailed after the two demon-spawn like a man on a mission. Whether it was to help Jinta, or hold him down for Ururu, it was hard for Ichigo to tell, and really, it could be either, knowing how that whack-job worked.</p><p>Grimmjow glared at her and rattled the binding kido once more, as if to get her to concentrate. She raised an eyebrow at him.</p><p>“That was one time. Get this off,” Grimmjow said, shooting a glare in her general direction. The woman made no move to get up and stretched out her hand again, still waiting on the vial.</p><p>“I should just leave you bound together. You could show Ichigo the hair on your—”</p><p>The rest of her sentence was cut off by Jinta screaming, much to Ichigo’s dismay. The boy ran back through, a stick of butter shoved right on the top of his head like the grossest unicorn in the world and a bandage slapped on his arm for the burn. Ichigo belatedly wondered which one did what, as he tossed the glass jar to Yoruichi without thinking.</p><p>Urahara was chuckling as he sat back down, and that didn’t help answer any of his questions. Poor Jinta.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>And I thought my living situation was weird. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Different situations work for different people. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Thanks for the wisdom, Confucius, but I’m not sure this shitshow is considered ‘working’. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“That’s what you get for snooping in my room, Jinta,” Ururu said from the hallway. Ichigo could make out her silhouette in the darkened area. Maybe she burned him on purpose. Ichigo shifted his weight on the pillow. Shouldn’t they be in bed? Hell, how were they even still alive, living with Kisuke Urahara for how many years. Jinta stuck out his tongue at the girl, and walked to the other side of the room where a hallway turned into the staircase, leading to the upstairs rooms.</p><p>“I could always make up some ice cream for you to cool your burn with!” Urahara said helpfully. Yoruichi was scrutinizing the fire in the jar with a pouty frown, but left the cork in the top, like she knew something Ichigo didn’t. She definitely did, but it wasn’t something he liked to dwell on.   </p><p>“The ice cream you make is just crushed ice with chocolate chips and marshmallow fluff,” Jinta pouted miserably at him, before turning into the hallway. Ichigo made a gagging sound. No wonder the guy had so many stomach issues. <em>I hope he doesn’t cook often.</em> <em>Poor Tessai.</em></p><p>He noticed Ururu disappeared as well. Did they sleep on different levels? If they usually got in these spats, he wouldn’t be surprised. Where did Grimmjow sleep when he was around? Did he even need sleep when he was in his normal, arrancar form?</p><p>“There’s a reason Tessai usually does all the cooking. Ururu is well on her way to being a delightful little chef as well,” Urahara said, answering just one of the many questions rattling around in his head like broken marbles.</p><p>Ichigo shook his head, wondering how any of them had actually managed to live this long, especially if there was a time any of them were ever apart from each other.</p><p>Yoruichi frowned but undid the kido binding them together with a flick of her hand. Her nails were painted a deep burgundy, he noticed, as her long nails began to dig into the cork stopping the vial. Urahara plucked it from her grasp before she could open it successfully, and stashed it somewhere up his sleeve. She frowned but leaned against his side, elbow on the table, head propped up by her fisted hand.</p><p>Ichigo rubbed his wrist, no longer buzzing with energy, if felt weird for there to be suddenly…nothing there. He’d thought about getting Kisuke or even Yoruichi to teach him some basic kido, but knowing him, he wouldn’t be any good at it. Control over minor details wasn’t something he was suited for in the slightest, as far as his Shinigami abilities were concerned. He won two wars with it, and he wasn’t actively searching out another one, so he let it go.</p><p>“You’re free to go, I guess,” Yoruichi said, staring between the two of them. Grimmjow had gotten to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. “We’ll call you when we need you for the next step.” She was grinning. Ichigo snapped his head away from the arrancar to look at her with what he hoped was a rueful expression, but it was probably just tired of their shit. Honestly, why would he need to go looking for trouble when these two could just…create it out of nothing with their sheer amount of chaotic energy.</p><p>“Next step for what?”</p><p>“A very special mission~~” Urahara said, slinging a green draped arm across the catty woman, who flicked her pink tongue across his face and leaned against his shoulder. Ichigo bristled. <em>Oh shit. I need to leave.</em> <em>Now.</em></p><p>“I don’t want to be a part of this,” Grimmjow grumbled, glaring at the shopkeeper before padding away, down the hall. Ichigo was inclined to agree, he also didn’t want to be apart of whatever the hell was going down with those two tonight. It was time to go home. If Ichigo liked the taste of alcohol, he’d be needing a drink right about now.</p><p>“Oh come on Grimmjow-san!”</p><p>Grimmjow looked back once and uttered something, probably a swear or multiple swears, in Spanish, before he meandered down the dimly lit hall, a door slamming in his wake. Ichigo could almost hear the violence rattle in the floorboards as he stood to his feet as well. Urahara waved to him, face half buried in purple hair as Ichigo turned once to look back, mouth drawn in a tight line and sighed.</p><p>“We’ll be in touch~~”</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Oh Ichigo, you dense bastard. It sounds pretty obvious he was holding back,” Kon said, as he swung his legs back and forth in the air, on the edge of Ichigo’s desk.</p><p>Medical books and papers set on it haphazardly, a small pile of notes stapled in the corner, sitting on the right edge of the wooden desk. Kon pulled at the light string twice, turning it on and off, for whatever reason, as if the motion would bring some sense to the situation Ichigo currently found himself in.</p><p>He had gotten back and showered quickly, hoping not to wake up his sisters or father. The clock read 12:21 by the time he sat in his desk chair in nothing but a towel. <em>At least tomorrow is Sunday.</em></p><p>Kon however, was merciless, since he prided himself on being Ichigo’s personal counselor in any and all matters dealing with Grimmjow. Why Ichigo had mentioned <em>anything</em> to the mod-soul in the first place, he didn’t know. Probably sick and tired of Kon whining about not knowing; he’d hoped it would shut him up permanently, but he latched onto it like a leech sucking blood. Unfortunately for Ichigo, he was also good at it, which only further added nails in the coffin lid.</p><p>“Holding back? What the hell does that mean?” Right now though, Kon wasn’t making <em>any</em> sense.</p><p>Kon shook his head, the little triangular pieces of his mane wiggling a little with the motion.</p><p>“He must value your consent a little, especially if you were feeling him up.” Ichigo tried to ignore the latter part of the statement, to focus on the former. Head already in his hands, Ichigo sighed deeply. This was really getting out of hand. Couldn’t he just go to sleep? He was hoping Kon would’ve been asleep, but Lady luck was a bitch with a grudge.  </p><p>“Values my consent? Kon, he’s tried to kill me numerous times.” <em>And what does that have to do with anything about this, anyway? </em></p><p>“Yeah, but you were always a willing participant in those battles, right? Enjoyed it even?” Ichigo’s eye twitched, unseen behind a still mostly hidden face. If Kon was making a point, like hell he’d admit it, now or ever.</p><p>“Not the first one!”</p><p>“Fair enough, but you did seek him out the other two times.” Ichigo shot the mod-soul a glare through his fingers, but Kon continued relentlessly.</p><p>“That and you didn’t really sound all that upset you had to share a bed. C’mon Ichigo, you’re studying to be a doctor, you can’t really be this dumb.”</p><p>Ichigo barely resisted sticking his tongue out at the plush little idiot-counselor like a child.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’ll do what I want you little jerk.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>You’re upset he’s right.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>The one time I’d rather deal with White, why do I get you?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Shirosaki wasn’t being helpful.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>What an underwhelming overstatement. I’m so shocked you’ll need to restart my heart, old man. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Zangetsu didn’t say anything, other than shaking his head, but Ichigo ignored that, in favor of trying to ignore Kon. Damn, this really wasn’t his night. Couldn’t he just…crash in peace? His bed looked really soft and inviting, and here he was, arguing with a stuffed animal about the courtesy of fighting, in a hard, less-than-ergonomic chair with a towel wrapped around his waist still. Ichigo let his hands drop from his face and sighed, staring at the smooth, white ceiling. Maybe he’d just…sleep in the closet. Or tape Kon’s mouth shut and throw him in there.  </p><p>Besides, what was bothering him the most was Kon was making sense when he talked—a sure sign Ichigo was exhausted beyond belief. Talking to his father about this way out of the question. He’d never hear the end of the lecturing; that and he’d be going back and forth, weeping, to the poser on the wall like an idiot.</p><p>“Maybe he’s just waiting for you to say something,” Kon offered, voice softer, jumping on Ichigo’s legs. Ichigo tipped his head back, looking at the mod-soul in earnest for once this evening. Hell, Kon was taking this more seriously than Ichigo was in certain aspects.  </p><p>“We don’t really talk, Kon” he said with a sigh, resting his head on one hand, elbow propped on the desk. He looked to his poster-less walls. If he was going to stay in his house for much longer, he’d need to make the light tan walls less…boring.</p><p>“Well, what the hell were you doing the last couple of days? Just staring at each other?”</p><p>“Arguing mostly, since we were stuck in human bodies.”</p><p>“But you slept in the same bed.”</p><p>“We’ve been over this—”</p><p>“Let me have this one.” Kon interrupted, crossing his arms as he sat squarely in Ichigo’s lap. The little deviant had no issues getting up in his space in any situation, and since Counselor Kon was in the office, Ichigo minus well find one of those Freudian couches to drape over dramatically. Kon would love the theatrics.</p><p>“Has he done or said anything else you’d consider odd?”</p><p><em>Sigmund Freud was a bastard and a fraud,</em> Ichigo thought, as he remembered the licking incident, and considered, <em>heavily</em>, <em>not</em> telling Kon that little detail.</p><p>But, that kind of nonsense was something Kon practically <em>lived</em> for, so Ichigo bit back his pride and told him anyway.</p><p>The feelings for Grimmjow hadn’t sprung up overnight by any means, but they’d grown considerably stronger over the last two days.</p><p>“He said you <em>could’ve</em> licked him.” Kon actually had a little notepad, and how he was holding the pen, Ichigo was sure, but physics didn’t quite work the same way for Kon as it did for literally everything else, the little enigma.</p><p>“Yes, <em>maybe</em>, <em>I don’t know,</em> Urahara interrupted before he could finish.” Running fingers through his spiky, orange hair, ruffling it up even more.</p><p>“Well, maybe you should start there.”</p><p>“Start by licking him?”</p><p>“No, but that probably couldn’t hurt either.”</p><p>“I don’t think I like your advice.”  </p><p>“Well…” Kon stopped suddenly, and stared at something behind him.</p><p>Ichigo rolled his eyes; it was probably Isshin or Karin trying to sneak up on him again since he woke them up with his shower. Yuzu had tried it once, but she’d done a poor job; her giggles could be heard from the other side of the house. He acted surprised regardless, he wasn’t a monster.</p><p>Turning around, in the darkness of his room he saw nothing…until he looked out the window bordering his bed…to see a very unhappy looking arrancar, who was still wearing the gigai. And no jacket, the sleeves of his shirt still rolled up to his elbows.  </p><p>“Maybe now’s your chance!” Kon stage whispered before he ran out of Ichigo’s room to the safety of Yuzu and Karin’s room, most likely. What a bastard. He watched as Grimmjow’s eyes followed Kon’s retreating form, and he fidgeted in place, like he wanted to pounce but the window and his pride were in the way.</p><p>Ichigo went over to andd pushed it open, keeping one hand on his towel, as he knelt on the bed.</p><p>“Grimmjow, what the hell are you—”</p><p>Grimmjow pushed his way inside, planting one of his hands open palmed over the entirety of Ichigo’s face as he passed. He tried to shake him off, but the invading appendage only left when he stumbled to the middle of his floor. <em>Were his hands always this big?</em></p><p>Ichigo shut the window with a sigh as he continued kneeling on his bed, watching Grimmjow rub his hands on his arms for heat friction.</p><p>“Damnit this gigai gets cold,” he seethed between clenched teeth, swinging his head around the room, analyzing it through narrowed eyes. Ichigo suddenly felt incredibly judged as the arrancar’s eyes settled on him; he fought back the urge to cover himself up like a coward, but got out of the bed instead, still holding the towel firmly in its place with one hand on his hip.</p><p>“Grimmjow, what are you doing here?”</p><p>Grimmjow swept his gaze around the room once more, arms dropping to his sides, arms suitably warm, or something.</p><p>“If I hav’ta hear one more thing outta either of those two, I’m settin’ the place on fire.” His eye was twitching as he said that, and Ichigo didn’t take that threat lightly. Living with Urahara and Yoruichi was probably very…exhausting.</p><p>
  <em>He was an arsonist in his past life, probably. </em>
</p><p>“What were they—”</p><p>“Don’t wanna talk about it, Kurosaki. I’m sleepin’ here tonight,” he said, shouldering Ichigo into his desk a little as he walked to the bed, and pushing down on the mattress slightly with his hands.</p><p>“Do I get a say in it?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Ichigo watched as Grimmjow turned and fell back into his bed, raising a leg high in the air with an unfair amount of flexibility, <em>his knee is practically touching his forehead, are his bones made of bendy straws or something,</em> as he started to until one booted foot, throwing it in a random direction over the side of the bed before starting on the other boot. It landed with a dull <em>thunk </em>as it came to a rest in front of his closet door, the other one was laying somewhere near the far wall. After he was done, he stretched out both legs as he made himself comfortable in the middle of the bed.  </p><p>“Alright then,” Ichigo muttered as he stood there, dumbfounded, and just…watched Grimmjow make himself at home.</p><p>Laying down didn’t last long though, as the man promptly got up on socked feet, <em>holy shit are those…strawberries,</em> and walked over to his desk, touching everything he could get his hands on. The light from the window was enough to read the pages easily enough in the open book, and the notes stashed in various places on the wooden top. A human anatomy textbook, open on page three-hundred and fifty-seven, was detailing the pelvic girdle, how it was formed, and how it different from the pectoral girdle. Real good shit. Ichigo had read it about fifteen times and was bored out of his mind by it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>At least Grimmjow hasn’t said anything about the towel. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>He noticed.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Didn’t say anything. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Doesn’t mean he didn’t notice, Ichigo. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>You and Kon would get along. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Grimmjow frowned as he flipped a couple chapters forward, losing Ichigo’s place, not that he cared; he had the damn page memorized by this point. As he watched the man flip more pages in his textbook, he realized Grimmjow hadn’t changed, and his shirt was still cuffed around his forearms, the probably cotton fabric pulled tight across his biceps as they tensed and semi-flexed with the movement of his arms, shuffling crap around on Ichigo’s desk. If he was going to stay, there was no way in hell he’d be comfortable sleeping in that, or the jeans painted on his legs. That and they were filthy. He’d have to throw them in the washer in the morning. And tell Urahara to buy him a bigger size.</p><p>“Do you need different clothes to sleep in?”</p><p>“No.” Grimmjow didn’t bother looking at him, as he was apparently fascinated in the textbook before him.</p><p>“So you brought some with you in an invisible bag with clothes?” Was the guy even listening?  </p><p>Grimmjow snorted, glancing at Ichigo from the corner of his eye. “No.”</p><p>“Then you need clothes to sleep in.”</p><p>“I’ll sleep in—”</p><p>“You hiked up and down a mountain in those clothes. No you’re not,” Ichigo said, cutting him off as he walked to his closet and rifled through his small collection of comfortable lounging clothes.</p><p>Pulling out a pair of sweatpants that were too big on his own narrow hips, he grabbed a red T-shirt that was probably too tight, <em>all of my shirts will be too tight on the guy probably,</em> and tossed them to the arrancar. He caught them with one hand as he turned fully to face Ichigo.  </p><p>“What is this book?” He asked, nodding to the book as he began to unbuckle his belt. Wide eyed, Ichigo turned quickly to face his closet, to avoid seeing anything he shouldn’t, red faced. Ichigo was going to offer the bathroom, he really was, but he didn’t expect the guy to just…start stripping in the middle of his room, right in front of him. The least Ichigo could do was give him a small bit of privacy, even if he was only wearing a towel in return.</p><p>He was suddenly aware of his own nakedness, now more than ever, and felt himself flush harder. <em>That happens a lot when I’m around Grimmjow. I’m not sure I like it. </em></p><p>“It’s a textbook. Human anatomy,” Ichigo answered, remembering Grimmjow had asked him a question and it would be rude to just…not answer because he was acutely aware they were both probably naked at the same time for at least an instant.</p><p>More rustling sounds from Grimmjow as Ichigo stood as stiff and still as an upright coffin.</p><p>“Sounds boring.”</p><p>“Ah, a bit,” Ichigo said, clearing his throat a little and swallowing. Why was he so nervous? This was ridiculous.</p><p>“I’m not wearing the shirt.”</p><p><em>Damnit all, </em>he thought and he tilted his head towards the ceiling and sighed. This wasn’t his weekend either. Somewhere, deep in a recess of his mind, his repression decided to cannon ball into a pool, splattering the insides of his skull with <em>feelings, </em>and <em>weird shit.</em> Throwing a quick glance behind him and deeming it as safe as it would probably get, he turned the full way around, facing the shirtless arrancar.</p><p>And was that…<em>oh my god Grimmjow has chest hair. </em>He felt more than heard the small pop somewhere in his mind. White probably took a needle and popped the rest of his self-control, as he felt himself stare.  </p><p>Ichigo tried not too, he really did, but Grimmjow noticed, crossing his arms across his chest, as if to hide away what Ichigo had already noticed. <em>Is he…embarrassed? </em>Grimmjow couldn’t meet his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak.</p><p>“It was this or the face, and I don’t wanna scruffy face.” His voice was a touch softer than it usually was, saying more than the actual words he’d uttered. <em>Well, that answers that, then. Urahara is a certifiable bastard. </em>Ichigo barely heard Grimmjow as he muttered the rest of his statement: “Don’t see why he’d want to put fur on my chest anyway.”</p><p>Ichigo bit back a laugh; it must’ve been a long, long time since he had been human. That or he was like Ichigo and couldn’t grow any then, either.</p><p>“It’s not fur, it’s just hair.” Grimmjow rolled his eyes so hard Ichigo could make out the whites of his eyes.</p><p>“What’s the difference? You don’t have any.”</p><p>Defensively, Ichigo’s hand went up to his chest and splayed out across it, as if to agree, on some level, even though his eyes were all but locked on Grimmjow’s chiseled chest. Ignoring the obvious, muscle definition, the identical lines on either side of his body, what the textbook formally called the iliac crest (page 359), running into a well defined ‘v’ shape until it met the top of the sweatpants, Ichigo’s eyes glazed over somewhat as he noticed the hair wasn’t thick and unkept, like a beast had gotten itself mauled across his chest and left most of its fur behind. Rather a nice…dusting of hair, thinning out as it reached his sternum, then nothing over his abdomen, until a little line of hair led the way down into his pants from his navel.</p><p>Ichigo had no idea how old the arrancar was, but this definitely made him seem a little older, and while Ichigo never considered himself to care one way or another about body hair, this was something he could get behind about four thousand percent. If his mouth was watering, he’d never tell.   </p><p>If Ichigo hadn’t felt self-conscious before, as he looked at the man more thoroughly, he sure did now. His damned father had hoarded enough of the hair genes in the family, Ichigo felt lucky he had hair on his head some days. How Karin and Yuzu had managed to scrape enough to pull back into a ponytail, he’d never know. Maybe it was a curse reserved for the men in the family.  </p><p>He didn’t realize he’d stepped closer, closer, until he was barely a foot away from the tensed arrancar. Ichigo really, <em>really</em> wanted to touch, every sense in his body was telling him too, <em>just a small pat or something, a modest tit-grab, if you will,</em> and Grimmjow seemed…equally distracted. Firmly, Ichigo kept both of his hands on his towel; if that slipped, he just throw himself out the window into what he hoped was oncoming traffic. The situation was already precarious enough as it was.  </p><p>“If you touch me again, I’m going to lick your face,” Grimmjow said, knocking Ichigo out of his thoughts, nose crinkled up slightly; not quite a snarl, but something threatening in the most non-threatening way possible.  </p><p>The thought didn’t concern Ichigo in the slightest, which should have concerned him more. With nowhere to go from there, both men looked at each other, before the phone Ichigo had thrown on his desk vibrated, shocking them both, making them jolt at the intrusive sound. What felt like had the potential of being a <em>moment™</em> was lost in the offending sound. Turning with a small scowl, Ichigo rifled through some useless papers he really needed to throw away to find the device. Clicking the side button, he saw it was a message from Urahara. Ichigo opened the message with a sigh, a knowing feeling of what the message would say.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Candyman:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Y don’t u keep him tonite</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Gotta date w/ miss kitty</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Me:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why are you the way you are? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And can’t you spell out your words?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Ichigo grumbled as he texted the man back, not really expecting any reasonable reply. Urahara had little reason to begin with since the end of the war, and he wasn’t going to waste what little remained on Ichigo’s plight, the spirit chasing shit was a tell-tale sign of that, flashing in bright, gaudy colors.</p><p>Grimmjow had already basically made himself comfortable in his room, well, as comfortable as he could allow himself to be in the current situation, anyway. As of two seconds ago, he was right up at Ichigo’s back, close enough where he could feel the body heat radiating off the man without them touching, peering over his shoulder at the phone. <em>If I just leaned back a little…</em>.</p><p>“Gross,” he said, right next to Ichigo’s ear. He could hear the sneer on his lips, and ignored the way his skin felt when hot breath trailed over cool skin. “Told ya they were fuc—”</p><p>“Please don’t finish that sentence.”</p><p>Grimmjow snorted as the phone buzzed again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Candyman: </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bring him back tmmrw have fun;)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Me: </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I hate you so much.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Candyman: </em>
</p><p>
  <em>:D luv u 2</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“I feel bad for Jinta and Ururu,” Ichigo said quietly, glaring at his phone like it could send <em>that</em> message to the man before dropping it down on his desk in the middle of his textbook. It was at 83%, so he’d charge it in the morning during breakfast.</p><p>“Don’t. Those two idiots do their nonsense in the training bunker.”</p><p>“How do you even know all this stuff?”</p><p>“Tch.”</p><p>A small puff of air blew past Ichigo’s ear, and he’d pretend to ignore it, like 90% of his other problems. Until it all coalesced into a huge ball of anxiety, it could wait until later. Grimmjow backed up, satisfied with his snooping for now, leaving Ichigo silently wanting for warmth.</p><p>“Whatever, Kurosaki. I’m tired, so shut up and let me sleep.”</p><p>Ichigo watched in horror as he fell back on the bed. It was yesterday all over again, minus the handcuffs. <em>Kinky.</em> Regardless, Grimmjow rooted around until he got comfortable enough, one leg hanging off the bed entirely, both arms thrown behind his head, trapping Ichigo’s favorite pillow under blue locks, and closed his eyes, chest on full display like he hadn’t been covering it a minute ago.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Nope, absolutely not. I’m not dealing with this shit again. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>You liked it well enough the first time. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>You’re just as bad as White.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Lying to you is not something I do, Ichigo. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>But you could though, right? Like that’s something you’re capable of, you just choose to make me miserable. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>All creatures have the capabilities to lie. Your misery business is your own fault. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>How are you worse than White right now. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The internal conversation with Zangetsu happened as he was getting out the spare futon he kept in his closet. Rukia wouldn’t be back for quite some time, seeing as how she was now Lieutenant of a Captain-less squad, Soul King rest Ukitake. He was a good man.</p><p>Grabbing it, he unrolled it onto the floor and threw a couple blankets on it. Grimmjow was watching him the whole time with a blank gaze. Walking over to the bed where he lay, sprawled out across it like the more space he claimed, the more it was actually <em>his</em>, Ichigo grabbed one the pillow that was <em>his damnit</em> from directly underneath Grimmjow’s head because why not, and threw it down on the futon.</p><p>Grimmjow let out a gruff of complaint, but said nothing otherwise, as he still watched Ichigo’s every movement, as if he was going to turn around and stab him or something. Back at his closet, Ichigo grabbed a rogue pair of sweats and the first shirt that looked clean enough, and went to change, clothes balled up under one arm, one hand on his towel.  </p><p>Isshin was waiting for him in the hallway, one caterpillar-eyebrow raised to forehead heights. Ichigo wanted to squish it between his hands, but settled with a long, drawn out sigh. How long had he been up? <em>How much did he know,</em> was the better question. Either everything or nothing, knowing him. He wasn’t one for gray areas.</p><p>“Aren’t you a little old to have a sleepover?”</p><p>Ichigo sighed, <em>everything it is, then</em>. Urahara owed him big time, and he should compensate with money. Or running his own damn errands to creepy pervert spirits. He really needed to find his own place soon. All he could offer was a tired look to his father, one that hopefully said, <em>believe me, this wasn’t my plan. </em></p><p>“Yep,” was all Ichigo said as he opened the door and went into the bathroom to change. He heard Isshin huff out a small laugh before he closed the door.</p><p>The shirt he’d ended up grabbing in the darkness was an old club shirt to a club he’d never even joined. They had passed out a few in order to gain new members, and the new blood had tried, desperately to get Ichigo to join, hoping their membership would jump. He’d never joined, but hey, free shirt. A couple years later and the letters had faded, indicating it was poorly made, and Ichigo couldn’t remember what the club even was.</p><p>All he knew was that it was surprisingly comfortable, and after Kon had ‘accidentally’ cut off one of the sleeves, Ichigo decided to do the same to the other, cutting both sides even lower, so there was a long slit open in each side, halfway down the torso. It was almost as good as wearing no shirt, but that wasn’t happening right now, with Grimmjow scrutinizing every damn movement he made.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I probably could’ve changed in there, but I don’t think Grimmjow would’ve turned around. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Would that have been a bad thing?</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Y-Yes that would’ve been—haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said?!</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>What you say, and what you feel, are usually polar opposites. </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo didn’t think Zangetsu deserved a reply anything short of Cajun banjo playing, so he shut his mind-mouth and went back to his room with a decisive frown on his face. Isshin had gone from the hallway, thankfully, so at least he wouldn’t be interrogated…tonight. In the morning, if they didn’t get around soon enough, would be a different story.</p><p>Grimmjow was right where he left him, on Ichigo’s bed, the other pillow now behind his head, and arms both underneath it. <em>Wow, Urahara really did go all out with the hair, huh,</em> he thought as he saw blue hair in the pit of his arms. <em>What the hell is wrong with me?</em> Shaking his head, Ichigo was concerned with his own well-being—why was he so entranced by <em>body</em> hair, of all things?</p><p>Was it because it was blue? Sure, in his arrancar form, Ichigo had never noticed arm, underarm or chest hair, but to be perfectly fair, he wasn’t actively looking for it. Though, with as pale of skin as he had, it would be pretty noticeable, he thought, especially because of the unusual color, and that Grimmjow tended to lose his shirt or unzip his jacket at literally every opportunity.</p><p>But if his real body didn’t grow hair in those areas, why did he have head hair?</p><p>An image of Grimmjow as bald as Ikkaku flashed through his mind, and Ichigo sputtered out a brief laugh before he could contain it as he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.</p><p>“What’er you laughin’ at?” Grimmjow cracked an eye at him, but made no other moves.</p><p>“Ah,” Ichigo suppressed a snicker, “Nothing really. Just thinking.”</p><p>“Didn’t think you could.”</p><p>“Shut up and go the hell to sleep,” Ichigo said as he sat down on the futon he laid out a few minutes ago, sweeping the blankets around on in for some semblance of…Ichigo didn’t know. To make it look more like the bed he should actually be sleeping in?</p><p>But there was no way in hell he was fighting about where Grimmjow was sleeping; he was too tired, and the bed wasn’t big enough to fit them both comfortably, and he’d slept beside the idiot uncomfortably once already. He’d man up and take the futon this time, he was tired enough and it was fairly comfortable. Anything would beat sleeping tangled tightly in the arrancar’s embrace, all smothered together…and warm….</p><p>Ichigo’s eyes drifted closed as his breathing steadied out. No…that wouldn’t be comfortable…at all….</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Ichigo awoke, he was still on his futon, blanket pushed haphazardly around his calves and twisting around his ankles like weird soft vines, holding him in place. As he regained his wits from a deep haze of sleep, he noticed he was not <em>alone</em> on the futon, as bright sunlight filtered in through the window.</p><p>Either Grimmjow moved in his sleep enough that he fell out of bed, or he crawled down onto the futon, <em>beside</em> Ichigo, of his own accord. Both were feasible options, Ichigo decided, but he was really, really hoping for the second one.</p><p>Positions switched from last time, Grimmjow pulled to Ichigo’s front, his own arms wrapped around the man’s middle like wires gave Ichigo an idea.</p><p>Grimmjow was still sleeping, or at least giving off the impression of it, if his slow, steady breathing was any reliable indicator. Moving with deft, discreet hands, Ichigo let his hand trail up, slowly, wandering farther and farther, absentmindedly along the scar, and came to a rest where the shopkeeper’s hairy handiwork grew. As expected, it was a little wirier than his arm hair, but only a little, and it <em>definitely</em> wasn’t as soft as his regular hair. Not that Ichigo actually knew what that felt like, he was assuming the last part really. He’d never touched the hair in earnest, always cautioned by snapping teeth of an indignant arrancar. Even in the gigai his teeth were hella sharp. Maybe now he could though…</p><p>Grimmjow’s body tensed as he rolled, face first into Ichigo’s personal space (face) and drug his tongue across his skin in a diagonal line, from his eye down to the side of his cheek, pulling an embarrassed squawk out of the Shinigami.  </p><p>“Ack, Grimmjow what the hell!”</p><p>“Told ya I’d do that if you touched me.”</p><p>“What the hell are you doing down here, anyway,” Ichigo asked, wiping the wetness from his face with his shirt. “You went to sleep in the bed!”</p><p>“Tch.”</p><p>Grimmjow got up and stretched, leaving Ichigo’s <em>non-</em>rhetorical question unanswered because he was a bastard. But he was usually a bastard who spoke his mind, whether Ichigo wanted to hear it or not, so the not-answer took him back a little.</p><p>Grimmjow’s arms made a disturbing, loud cracking sound, like he’d managed to break the gigai’s arm with the motion. Glancing quickly at his clock, he saw it read 8:32. The rest of the house was probably up by now, unfortunately, and unless he wanted to muscle the arrancar out the same way he’d come in, he was probably going to have a lot of questions to answer.</p><p>His steady resolve to never let the arrancar around his sisters ground to a sharp halt—he was around Jinta and Ururu all the time and hadn’t killed them yet, so really Karin and Yuzu were safe. Ichigo was only concerned with them buddying up and driving him insane, really. Neither group needed help to do that separately; together they’d probably be a nightmare.</p><p>“Whatever. It smells like Yuzu has breakfast ready. You coming?” Ichigo said as he stood, combing long fingers through orange hair. <em>Let’s get this over with.</em></p><p>……</p><p>Isshin was only glaring a little as they walked down the stairs. Ichigo had pulled on a different shirt, one without a half-assed home job cut. Besides, it was almost the same color as Grimmjow’s eyes, and he thought that might be a little weird—that and his sisters had the most annoying eye for detail; they’d read into it as something it <em>definitely was not.</em> Sometimes <em>blue</em> was <em>just blue, damnit. </em> Ichigo had convinced Grimmjow to wear a hoodie with little problem, thankfully. If Isshin saw he was getting chest hair competition, Ichigo would eat his own sword and hoped it nicked an important artery in the process. At least Grimmjow’s was tasteful. Isshin needed to wax. Or go to Urahara to get rid of the wolf-man gene, apparently.</p><p>“So which one of you is the little spoon?” Karin asked with a cheeky grin, eyeing between the two men as they walked up to the table where Yuzu had placed an enormous amount of food. <em>Dad must’ve said something to her</em>, he thought, knuckling his eye a bit in embarrassment.  </p><p>“I’m a knife,” Grimmjow said without a moment’s hesitation. Ichigo shook his head, knowing Grimmjow had no idea of what any of that meant, and remembered the position they woke up in.</p><p>“He is,” Ichigo said, pointing over his shoulder at Grimmjow. He was going for a dead-panned, cool-as-a-cucumber look, but his cucumber was probably getting picked in eleven different herbs and spices, thank the KFC gods for that. He heard Grimmjow growl behind him.</p><p>Isshin prickled a small smile then.</p><p>“’Atta boy!”</p><p>Ichigo rolled his eyes and his face hit is palms as he sat. Maybe they should skip breakfast altogether.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>…</p><p>“So how long have you been seeing my son?” Isshin asked Grimmjow, who was shoveling food into his mouth like a wild animal who was hibernating for the winter. <em>Seriously, don’t you get fed at Urahara’s?</em></p><p>Grimmjow shrugged at the question, not bothering to answer with his mouthful of food. It didn’t look like he was planning to stop anytime soon, either, and it didn’t help Yuzu was enabling him by filling his plate as quickly as it diminished. She was absolutely delighted though, so at least someone was having a good time.</p><p>There was an audible swallow from his left, and the sound of metal hitting ceramic. Grimmjow had opted for a fork instead of chopsticks, said they were too flimsy, but Ichigo had saw him try them once at Urahara’s a couple weeks ago. He just sucked at using them. But when you’re a hollow who usually eats other hollows for food, Ichigo didn’t figure learning how to use chopsticks was very high on the priority list.  </p><p>Then again, Kon didn’t use them right either. He’d caught him once, after Ichigo had left his body in the mod-souls care to take care of a few rogue hollows, with them poking out of his mouth like walrus tusks and wiggling them. He could wiggle the right one independently of the left, but not the other way around. It was <em>embarrassing</em> as <em>hell</em> and Isshin had taken photos.</p><p>“Dunno what it’s been in human time. Few years, maybe?”</p><p>Ichigo was relieved, mostly, that Grimmjow had taken the innocent approach, well as innocent as he could be, anyway. It had been three years since they’d first met by Grimmjow stabbing one of his closest friends through the gut. Rukia still intended to return the favor, someday, but settled with forcing Ichigo to give the arrancar a wasabi filled dumpling. The joke was on her though—turns out, Grimmjow loved spicy food, the hotter, the better. It was disgusting.</p><p>“I see. How did you meet?”</p><p>“Tried to kill’em.” Another shovel of fish into his gaping maw. Ichigo was pretty sure he saw a fang as he sat there, not moving, save for the small amounts of food he could manage to not choke on as he listened to the conversation.  </p><p>“Oh yeah, the sixth love language. Violence,” Karin said not missing a beat, downing her glass of orange juice in one swoop, leaving an orangey mustache on her top lip, sparkling in the morning light.</p><p>Honestly, there was more than one animal at this table. If Isshin wasn’t so bent on interrogation, he’d probably be challenging the man to an eating contest. Ichigo wasn’t sure who’d win. Grimmjow looked confused more than anything at Karin’s statement, but went back to the refilled eggs on his plate after the look had passed. Did Kisuke not feed him or…? Then again, if Urahara was the one cooking, Grimmjow would probably willingly starve.</p><p>If Ichigo was reading the situation correctly, it would probably be a while before he could get Grimmjow away from the table, let alone back to the shoten.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Now mountain side, Ichigo and Grimmjow are tasked with handing over the fox fire to the spirits in the area, but...where are they? And why is that one bird really pissed at Grimmjow?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The top most peak of the mountain was cold, even in their spirit forms. A sacred place apparently, farther north, reaching into the clouds, high enough for snow to cover the craggy, barren stone surface. Gray rock mixed with blinding white was all Ichigo could see has he looked around the area he and Grimmjow were standing.</p>
<p>Urahara said the beings they were supposed to meet were spiritual creatures by nature, and Ichigo wasn’t about to argue with him about it, not only would he probably be right, but he’d be a smug little shit about it, in his own way. That and Grimmjow would never let him live it down. It had been five days since Ichigo had brought him back to Urahara’s shop, Yuzu having fed him enough food for an entire army and then some.</p>
<p>It had been somewhat difficult to get him to leave the house actually; Ichigo had to promise him twice as many fights as usual <em>and</em> let him keep the hoodie to make him leave the table. He still hadn’t been able to steal it back, but whatever, it wasn’t like he wore it a whole lot anyway. It would happen eventually.</p>
<p>The mountain, or rather conglomeration of three similar sized mountains, was almost three hundred miles away from Karakura, but this time Ichigo had resolutely refused to go anywhere when he wasn’t in his soul form. He had no intention of repeating the fox incident, and Grimmjow, for once, was inclined to agree with him.</p>
<p>While the spirit forms numbed out most of the cold, the wind whipping around and <em>under</em> Ichigo’s shihakshō was less than comfortable. Shivering slightly, Ichigo panned his gaze around, seeing only a small indent in the rock, where a cave could possibly be, but it was hard to see through the drifting snow.</p>
<p>“What the hell are we doing here?” Grimmjow asked, clearly not enjoying their little field trip. Ichigo sighed in silent agreement. Urahara should do his own work.</p>
<p>“It’s like you don’t even hear me when I talk to you.”</p>
<p>“I hear ya, Kurosaki. I just don’t listen.” Ichigo bit back the reply to tell him that was basically the same thing, but what-the-hell-ever.</p>
<p>“You’re the worst field trip partner.”</p>
<p>They hadn’t spoken of the sleeping incident, or the kissing one before that, or really…anything that had happened, Kon’s sage advice be damned. But, if Ichigo focused enough, he could feel the ghost of Grimmjow’s form still in his arms as he lay in bed, alone. It was nice, but damned if he’d let the fangy-bastard in on that personal secret. That and Ichigo couldn’t help but feel embarrassed for even <em>thinking</em> about that now. <em>This is getting out of hand.</em></p>
<p>They also hadn’t spoken about his chest hair, but that was <em>probably</em> less important.</p>
<p>Urahara had been able to transport them through some weird-ass thing he’d made because he was a neurotic inventor with too much free time. He’d placed a marker of some sort near the base of the mountain in an earlier pilgrimage, and was able to connect it to an identical marker he’d made in a restricted part of the training bunker. The path they’d traveled on was something between a Senkaimon and a Garganta, but shorter and definitely less…scary. No Cleaner, and no making a path out of pure reishi.</p>
<p>Knowing Urahara, Ichigo had figured they were probably the first people to use it, so he was thankful they’d come out of it unscathed and normal looking. The man had muttered something about knowing they were in the right spot by the <em>flickering of the fire</em>, whatever the hell that meant, but they were also tasked with giving the vial to a bird-monk-man so he could <em>relight </em>said fire. The man was nothing, if not consistent in his inconsistencies.</p>
<p>But there was no man, monk, or even bird to be seen as the wind ran her cold fingers through Ichigo’s hair, pushing it about in the icy gale. It may technically spring, but try telling that to mountain weather.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>It was Mount Haguro, right? I wasn’t really listening when Urahara was talking. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Boy, that sure’s a shock, King. </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Yes, he doesn’t listen all that well when that arrancar of his is around.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I literally cannot deal with both of you today. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>I believe Kiskue indeed called it Mount Haguro.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Leave a message at the tone. Beep. </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>But there was no flickering. There wasn’t even a decent place for a breath of warm air, let alone a damned <em>fire</em> of all things. But if it’s supernatural fire, maybe it would be different? Ichigo dug around in the pocket of his shihakshō, but couldn’t find the fox fire vial. <em>Oh yeah, Grimmjow swiped it earlier.</em></p>
<p>“Oi, why’s it dyin’?”</p>
<p>Ichigo looked towards Grimmjow’s confused voice to see him holding the vial he had been searching for, and indeed, it did look like it was…. <em>So this fire is what flickers? Maybe we are in the right spot.</em> Ichigo watched as the small flame alternated between almost snuffing out completely and taking up the entirety of the small jar, lapping at the sides of the cork shoved in the top, but not igniting it.</p>
<p>As Ichigo stared, a piercing shriek rung out around them, high and loud. Jamming a finger in his hear to block the sound, Ichigo flinched. Whirling around, he noticed a crow sitting on top of a small rock to his right, <em>glaring </em>at them. Well, no.</p>
<p>It was glaring at Grimmjow and Grimmjow alone, beady black eyes, glinting and shining with absolute malice. This was the angriest bird Ichigo had ever seen. Flapping its wings once, twice, it took off into the breeze and sailed around in the wind before diving abruptly, aiming directly for Grimmjow’s blue head like he painted a big, red bullseye on it earlier.</p>
<p>Grimmjow snarled as he ducked down, narrowly avoiding the beaked beast and its talons. The crow twisted grotesquely in the air, to the point where Ichigo thought it was snapping itself in half, in order to claw at the skin of Grimmjow’s arms. The talons did little to break skin, not that it didn’t piss off an already irritable arrancar and pull a deep, feral growl from the man’s throat, surprising even Ichigo. He’d never used that sound on him before.</p>
<p>A swift beak pecked once on the back part of his head, and Grimmjow clawed out, swiping half transformed arms around in hopes of catching a slick, feathered body, but came up empty. Pitch colored feathers of the bird fluttered on its wings, and even in the windy breeze, Ichigo could tell there was something…odd about the creature, as he settled his back against a shockingly cold rock and waited out…whatever was happening. The creature was deceptively fast, and since it was so much smaller than Grimmjow, it had a small advantage, especially in the wind.</p>
<p>The bird contorted its neck at a sickening angle, and pecked once more at the arrancar’s head; its wings looked longer, blacker, sharper, eyes larger. Skin of Ichigo’s neck prickled up, a knowing signal he was being watched by something other than the two-idiot circus in front of him.</p>
<p>“You shitstain—”</p>
<p>“Urahara Kiskue has sent you,” a ringing voice said, carried through the biting wind. Ichigo swirled around from his place on the rock, Grimmjow barely noticing as he continued cursing at the grudgeful bird, swiping at air and snarling. Looking around, Ichigo couldn’t see anything that would’ve sounded like a voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I know I heard something.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Better get a nice white room ready with lots of soft padding, King. </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I hate you so much. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Hate will get you nowhere, Ichigo. </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Ohmygod. </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>With the two sword spirits only caring about annoying him into insanity, Ichigo cut his losses and called out to the empty space around him, voice carrying in the wind.</p>
<p>“Who’s there?”</p>
<p>The next breeze that blew against Ichigo’s cheek was frozen solid, like a harsh slap in the face with an icicle, forcing gooseflesh to erupt like miniature volcanoes all along his arms, on the back of his neck, almost like fingers grasping cold skin. Grimmjow noticed something different as well, and stopped his clawing at the crow circling him overhead.</p>
<p>The wind blew a drift of snow across the ground, and as it swirled into the air like it was sucked through a monster sized straw by an equally huge monster, a figure began to take shape. Emerging from the painful wall of white first was a thick, wooden staff, tapping twice along the frozen ground. Curled around the staff were…fingers? Kind of? Long and jagged, sharp taloned points coiled around the staff near the top where bells hung from a notched and tied part of the staff.</p>
<p>Pure white suzukake and hakama covered the body exiting the swirling, misty snow-nado, beaded necklace dangling from a short neck, some kind of brown animal pelt tied and wrapped around their waist. A white chord, a belt perhaps, wrapped around their waist loosely, tassels swinging around in the wind. Shoes similar to Ichigo’s own, except this person had protective gear around their legs, kyahan, and fingerless tekkō, similar to what Rukia wore around her hands and forearms, both pure white as well.</p>
<p>What caught Ichigo off guard the most were pitch colored feathers erupting from the sleeves like a dark water stream. Dangling down from the feathers hung a small wooden fan, partially open, swaying lightly with the motions. As he let his eyes trail up from the long, shiny feathers over the folds of the sleeves, drooping behind and past the longest of the plumage, he finally reached their face. Sharp, angular, and a long nose, protruding from paled, silky skin, almost like a beak, and eyes even darker than their feathers, if that was even possible.</p>
<p>They certainly did not look pleased, as their gaze flickered from Ichigo to Grimmjow’s semi-crouched form, and back to the Shinigami, narrowing in the ashy light.</p>
<p>“Uh…hi?” Ichigo said as he swallowed; his nerves were growing as they looked at the unhappy creature. Fighting with a Mountain Bird-Monk was something he would like to avoid, if possible, even if he did defeat two narcissists who called themselves gods. Eyes traveled over to Grimmjow, who was fully crouched down now, arms resting on his knees, feet planted flat on the ground.</p>
<p>“You caused a fuss with Coya,” the Bird-Monk said. It was not a question. <em>So this is what Grimmjow meant by not a crow, huh?</em> Figures it would come back later to bite them both in the ass. Ichigo heard what he could consider a chuckle, if the person had been snacking on aluminum foil inside a microwave, from the circling crow over Grimmjow.</p>
<p>“But <em>you,</em>” the Bird-Monk glared directly at the hovering feathered form, “were not supposed to leave the mountain.”</p>
<p><em>So…are we in trouble or just…the other bird? </em>Ichigo shook his head, in hopes of rattling around some latent common sense, but none broke free from the stalactites handing from his cavernous skull.</p>
<p>“Ah, sorry about that,” Ichigo said, rubbing his head, and watching with horror as Grimmjow readied himself from his crouch, only to launch himself at the laughing, flying beast, still swooping and trying to peck at blue hair. Ichigo turned back to the less than impressed Bird-Monk, who seemed disappointed, but not surprised by the scene.</p>
<p>“He’s basically a cat, so I guess even in human form getting along with…birds…is a no-go?”</p>
<p>Ichigo heard a snarl from the arrancar, but wasn’t all that sure it was directed as his words as the other feathered fiend squawked in his face.</p>
<p>“We are Tengu. And Yamabushi of this mountain.” The wind swirled around Ichigo’s feet and ankles as if to agree with the tengu’s statement. <em>So Bird-Monk wasn’t really off the mark then.</em>  </p>
<p>“It’s…nice to meet you?” Ichigo said with a low bow—he could have manners, even if Grimmjow was a half-lost cause. The Tengu returned the gesture with a small nod in Ichigo’s direction.</p>
<p>“You have come to relight the flame.” Again, it wasn’t a question, Ichigo noticed, as beady black eyes kept staring at him. The tengu had not come closer to him, and he stayed rooted to his spot as well, a fear that maybe, if he stepped forward without the proper consent, the tengu would up and fly away, leaving their mission incomplete. And Ichigo didn’t want to go back to Urahara empty—he’d make the horn permanent, and give him a tail while he was at it. The shopkeeper could be unbelievably petty if he felt the action was justified.</p>
<p>“Have we—what? Oh, the—yeah; it’s around here somewhere.” Ichigo patted his pockets for the vial before he remembered it was, unfortunately, in Grimmjow’s clawed hands at the moment.</p>
<p>“Very well, I will take it. And you,” they said, looking at Grimmjow, raising up a ruffled arm to show of dangerously sharp talons between the tar-black feathers. “You are a guest on our mountain. Behave.”</p>
<p>Grimmjow planted his feet back on the ground, blue hair wild and untamed in the wind, out of its normal styled back appearance, upper lip curled back in a sneer.</p>
<p>“You don’t get to order me around, birdbrain,” Grimmjow growled out, and Ichigo felt a bone deep frustration settle into his marrow, smelling any prospects of this mission going smoothly going up in smoke. If Ichigo had thought himself a rival to Grimmjow, then these creatures must be pure enemies—cats and birds didn’t get along, ever, apparently. Truces didn’t happen between feather and fang. Why hadn’t Urahara been more specific other than <em>be respectful, Grimmjow-san~~~~. </em>Ichigo was going to break that fan in his nose; hopefully Tessai would leave it there.  </p>
<p>“I’m sure Urahara Kiskue told you who we were,” a grating, screeching voice called out. Ichigo looked to the crow fluttering around in the wind, wings extended and flapping.  </p>
<p>“Ah, no. Sorry.” Ichigo offered a weak smile at the bird, assuming it had actually spoken. <em>Hell, Yoruichi is a cat half the time, so it shouldn’t be that surprising.</em></p>
<p>“What?! We’ve known him for over fifty years and he still doesn’t’ know our names?” It was the crow irritating Grimmjow that was speaking; Ichigo watched as it settled on a jagged rock protruding from the craggy surface. The wind had died down some. Flapping its wings quickly, but not leaving the rock, the bird—presumably another tengu—squawked out angrily.</p>
<p>“Clearly you’ve made a great impression,” Grimmjow said, growling and lowering himself closer to the ground.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Honestly, can’t you give it a rest you overgrown housecat. </em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Instincts are instincts, King. </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yeah, but its hella embarrassing. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Awww, jealous he’s not chasing after you?</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I made a playlist of the worst banjo playing I could find; don’t think I’m not above listening to it on repeat for days. </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>White thankfully had no response, other than frowning and crossing his arms over his chest, yellow eyes narrowing to slits. At least he knew when he was beat, unlike somebody.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“I will not speak to one who has the <em>gall</em> to grab me by my—”</p>
<p>“Enough, Coya,” the humanoid Bird-Monk said, and turned to face Ichigo again, eyes slightly less narrowed. He almost looked apologetic. “Coya is young still, training not so diligently in the ways of Shugendō. Patience is not his strong suit.”</p>
<p>Ichigo looked at the Monk in surprise; this was the longest sentence they’d yet to speak to him. <em>Maybe they’re not as angry as I thought,</em> Ichigo thought to himself, as he offered a smile in response.</p>
<p>“No worries, it isn’t his either,” Ichigo said pointing to Grimmjow, who had dropped back into a crouch, shifting his weight between his feet to get the optimal weight/launch ratio. Ichigo rolled his eyes at the sight as Grimmjow dropped his arms slightly and frowned at him, right eye twitching.</p>
<p>“Hey!”</p>
<p> Bird-Monk nodded solemnly to Ichigo, in what he took as understanding. The other tengu—Coya was his name? —must’ve been this tengu’s rowdy idiot then, like Grimmjow was Ichigo’s. Kind of. Not that Ichigo would tell that to him directly, of course.</p>
<p>With a sigh the Bird-Monk rubbed a sharp finger over his temple in a mock smoothing motion. “You do have what we need, yes?” Ichigo looked up at the gray sky, the wind finally settling into a dull breeze ghosting across his exposed skin.  </p>
<p>“Ah, yeah, but I think <em>he</em> has it right now,” Ichigo sighed, pointing again to Grimmjow. They both watched as the arrancar jumped, hackles raised, claws scraping against hard, gray stone, and pushed off it into the air after the crow, which left its perch in a flurry of black feathers and indecent squawking. Ichigo growled to himself and shook his head, glaring at the sight.</p>
<p>
  <em>Why is he so hell bent on getting that crow?</em>
</p>
<p>As Grimmjow turned, Ichigo caught a glimpse of his flashing blue eyes, his irises the thinnest ring of blue he’d ever seen, pupils blown to oblivion, fangs poking out of an open mouth, snarling and growling at the creature.</p>
<p> <em>He sure is having a lot of fun right now,</em> Ichigo thought bitterly, trying to ignore the small pang of jealousy and the even larger pang of stupidity for feeling jealous over a <em>bird</em>, of all things. Flapping around the arrancar’s dumb head, the crow-tengu-whatever it was, flew towards the edge of the mountain side, swooping down the mountain at a sharp angle and out of sight. Ichigo cupped his hands around his mouth as Grimmjow made chase.</p>
<p>“Get your ass back here you idiot!” If he went off and did his own thing, it would be a huge pain in the ass. <em>This was supposed to take like ten minutes maximum. </em></p>
<p>Grimmjow turned, once, briefly, and only to hold up a single middle finger to him, turning back around and sonido-ed after the feathered beast. Ichigo was beginning to hope he caught it between his teeth as he rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes in frustration.</p>
<p>“I’m going to <em>murder</em> him,” Ichigo hissed, trying to ignore the small chuckle beside him. The Bird-Monk had stepped beside him while he’d been preoccupied yelling at Grimmjow, and hadn’t noticed his presence until now. Glancing beside him, he watched as the tengu adjusted the small black cap tied to his forehead.</p>
<p>“He seems…playful,” the Monk mused, a corner of his mouth pulling up slightly as Ichigo looked away, ignoring the small amount of heat pushing up into his face.</p>
<p>“Not the word I’d pick,” Ichigo muttered as he looked away from the tengu, focusing his eyes where Grimmjow had left, trying to sense out his presence. Something—probably the spirit being beside him—was muddling up his senses more than they were normally, so trying to since his spiritual pressure was wasted.</p>
<p>“You two seem close.”</p>
<p>Ichigo resisted pinching the bridge of his nose since that would probably be seen as rude. Wasn’t he a monk? What was he asking, exactly? Focusing on a nearby snow covered rock, Ichigo sighed. He shouldn’t tell the tengu he’d like to be closer, actually. <em>Much</em> closer. But that wasn’t a thought for now. Grimmjow had the damned fox fire and was now probably halfway down a mountain chasing a bird. If there were any spiritually aware people further down the mountain, they’d probably be getting an earful as well.</p>
<p>“Give it time, boy. There is a strength between you two.”</p>
<p>Ichigo sputtered and turned his reddening face towards the tengu, who returned his gaze calmly, black eyes wide, staring straight through him. Opening his mouth to say something—<em>anything</em>, but the tengu beat him to it.</p>
<p>“Coya,” the tengu continued, the sound of his now raspy voice resonating in and between Ichigo’s eyes, air around his ears whispering the name over and over, tingling it around his fingertips; the hair on the back of his neck stood up, as cold air buzzed around him, carrying the message.</p>
<p>“If you cannot leave the man alone, I will clip your wings…again.”</p>
<p>The air was static-y and rough against Ichigo’s exposed skin; he didn’t like it. It reminded Ichigo of the paralysis kido Rukia had used on him moments after they’d met, but worse. He could move around freely in this, but not escape.</p>
<p>The sound of flapping reached his ears, breaking the buzzing around his body suddenly, and an undignified screech filled his eardrums, breaking into his skull and bouncing around like a rubber ball thrown by a toddler in a china shop. Claws, then, prickled on his shoulder, grasping the folds of his shihakshō, a weight settled uncomfortably as he felt something soft brush against the side of his face.</p>
<p>“But Master Kyoga!” The other tengu came to rest on his shoulder, shriek-crying all the way, reminding Ichigo a little bit of Kon.</p>
<p><em>I hope he won’t take a shit on me,</em> Ichigo thought absently as he sighed. This close Coya sounded young, more like a child, even. That would explain <em>his</em> behavior, at least, but not the arrancar’s. Speaking of which, Ichigo couldn’t see him, maybe he’d fallen off the mountain.</p>
<p>“These two are here to help. There is no need to be rude.”</p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“There you are!” Grimmjow’s voice sounded behind him, as Ichigo heard a scramble of feet moving quickly in his direction. <em>Oh shit—</em></p>
<p>“Ack! Grimmj—”</p>
<p>Ichigo barely felt Coya’s weight leave his shoulder before Grimmjow barreled into him, a hand pushing down on his head, foot on his back, one clawed hand trying to swipe at the crow, floating around in the air cackling. <em>No wonder Urahara liked these guys.</em></p>
<p>Ichigo toppled over, landing face first on the hard ground while Grimmjow danced around on his back, before settling himself down, knees on either side of Ichigo’s torso, straddling his back, snarling, one hand pushing into the small of his back and staying there, effectively pinning Ichigo underneath him.</p>
<p>“Your companion has a remarkable lack of self-control,” he heard the tengu—Kyoga?—say with a breathy laugh, hard shell finally cracking. <em>And all it took was me being violently tackled.</em></p>
<p>“That’s putting it lightly,” Ichigo said, as the bad hand smushed his face into the solid ground, squishing his cheek to the cold stone beneath him. His face hurt.  “Get off will ya?”</p>
<p>Grimmjow didn’t hear him, or at the very least, ignored him, as he ground his face into the stone even more, a grunt of pain escaping past Ichigo’s lips. He could feel Grimmjow’s solid weight on his back, a rogue leg crossing over one of his own, locking him down awkwardly, as the arrancar presumably kept clawing at the bird. Why he wasn’t getting up, Ichigo didn’t know. Maybe he just enjoyed being an ass. <em>No, he definitely does,</em> Ichigo thought as he felt a knee in the middle of his back, pushing air our of his lungs with a rush.</p>
<p>Growling, Ichigo maneuvered his hands around, until they were palm down on either side of him, elbows bent, around shoulder height. The cold seeped through his skin as it made flush contact with the rocky surface and Ichigo cursed the cold. <em>Maybe our spirit forms aren’t as numb as I assumed,</em> Ichigo thought as he fisted his hands into a ball and pushed his body up and back hard, throwing his weight back and knocking Grimmjow off, putting him on his ass. Ichigo flipped around as Grimmjow shouted behind him.  </p>
<p>“Kurosaki you little—”</p>
<p>“Will you think with your person brain and not your cat one for two whole minutes?” Ichigo said cutting him off and crawling over to get directly in the guy’s face with a seething glare. Grimmjow glared back with a deep scowl, making a huffy sound as he blew hot breath onto Ichigo’s face, but didn’t move otherwise, palms splayed out on the ground behind him, propping him up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I should’ve known better than to take a cat to bird mountain. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Well, at least it’s not boring, King. </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Not you again.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>You don’t want me. You don’t want the Old Man. I’d ask who you did want, but I think that’s pretty obvious. </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I want some damn peace and quiet.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Good luck.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This whole trip, Ichigo thought, shouldn’t’ve taken nearly this long. Relight the fire, get paid in feathers, take them to Urahara and wipe their hands of the whole mess. The feathers apparently would be a more than fair trade, according to the shopkeeper, but he delt in trades and wares, not honesty and straightforwardness.  </p>
<p>But <em>no</em>, Grimmjow just had to go and act like a big dumb cat about it, swiping and cursing and chasing after a tengu he didn’t even know. If he tried to eat the feathers, Ichigo was going to kill him for sure. He sure as hell didn’t know what the end goal of this little mission was, but it better damn well be worth all the headache the man was causing him, or he’d feed the shopkeeper own horn-potion to him. </p>
<p>Then again, Urahara would probably enjoy it, so maybe hold off, especially since Ichigo could imagine what kind of jokes the man would try and pull. Maybe he’d just set fire to his lab instead. That would probably hurt more.  </p>
<p>“I need the fox fire,” Ichigo said, still right in Grimmjow’s space. His pupils were still blown and it was a little distracting. Okay, it was a lot distracting, especially since Grimmjow furrowed his little blue eyebrows and flared his nostrils a little, making another angry, huffy sound.</p>
<p>“Or he—ah sorry, they?” Ichigo looked towards Kyoga, the black bird sitting perched on his shoulder now. “I can’t tell and don’t want to assume—<em>anyone</em> needs it more than you do right now. You’ll break the jar.”</p>
<p>“Says who?” Grimmjow blew on his face on complete purpose this time. Ichigo felt himself twitch at the feeling.</p>
<p>“Says me! And them!” Ichigo pointed to Kyoga then, and he nodded once, slowly, eyes betraying nothing, face carefully blank, unlike Ichigo’s own. He felt movement beneath him, and he realized he had one leg shoved roughly in between Grimmjow’s own. They both had ample opportunity to crush each other’s junk, and the only thing keeping either of them from doing it, Ichigo thought, was because the other would retaliate.</p>
<p>“Tch. I’m busy right now.” Ichigo almost kneed him in the crotch anyway.</p>
<p>“Busy?! We came here together—this is our <em>job—”</em></p>
<p>“Found something better to do,” Grimmjow said, getting even closer, leaning his face towards Ichigo’s. Ichigo grit his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tensing, biting back the urge to ask if he could be the ‘something better’ but let his anger take over instead of the other feeling, crushing it entirely for a moment.</p>
<p>“Well give me the damned jar and you can do whatever the hell you want,” Ichigo hissed, pissed that Grimmjow would just…dump him so suddenly for a <em>bird</em> of all things. Glancing at his hands, Ichigo noticed that neither of them held the fox fire, which means…<em>it’s either in his pocket or he dropped it.</em> He was hoping, praying for the former—<em>if I have to go back to fox mountain again, I’m taking Yoruichi instead. </em></p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>If Grimmjow was in any position to cross his arms, he probably would’ve, Ichigo noticed. He also noticed the prickling of his arms, the gooseflesh erupting along his forearms. <em>If he was in his gigai, his arm hair would be standing on end.</em>  </p>
<p>“Give it here.”</p>
<p>Ichigo imagined him shaving the arrancar’s eyebrows off. He deserved it, honestly, the bastard. Ichigo didn’t notice he got closer; their noses were almost touching in the proximity. Fixing his gaze on the arrancar’s own eyes, Ichigo noticed there was barely a ring of blue around widely blown pupils. <em>Huh, they’re even bigger than earlier.</em></p>
<p>“Make me, Kurosaki.” Girmmjow said, voice lower, as his gaze flicked down to something else on Ichigo’s face for a second before looking back. As he swallowed, Ichigo realized he didn’t even register the cold prickling along his hands or legs anymore. Everything was…kind of warm now in his rage…or whatever he was feeling.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>I’ve got an idea, King. </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>So do I. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Ichigo listened to White’s suggestion regardless, realizing they were on the same wavelength for once in their life. It was one Kon would definitely approve of, which really should’ve worried Ichigo more, but he found he really didn’t care at this point, his patience was already <em>this close</em> (thumb and forefinger touching) to snapping completely, so it was worth a shot. If everything went accordingly, he could pass the vial to Kyoga before Grimmjow decided to lop his head off. Hopefully the tengu wouldn’t mind if he plucked a couple feathers himself if he needed, otherwise this trip would’ve been for nothing.</p>
<p>Leaning back on his legs, creating a bigger gap between them, Ichigo sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, looking back at the sky momentarily. Grimmjow used the opportunity to fidget around, arranging his legs beneath him, arms now out in front of him, but before he could stand, Ichigo shot out his own hands and grabbed the back of the arrancar’s head.</p>
<p><em>Now or never,</em> he thought, trying to keep his blush down. With all the experience in his arsenal, which was pretty close to none, Ichigo smashed their mouths together ungracefully, tilting a little when the jawbone scraped against the corner of his mouth.</p>
<p>Grimmjow sucked almost all of the breath out of Ichigo’s mouth when he gasped, but didn’t push him away. His eyes were wide and staring, as were Ichigo’s own, as they ground against each other, in uncoordinated, but not unwelcome movements. Dropping one hand, Ichigo slipped it into Grimmjow’s right pocket, hoping he picked the right one and felt around for the vial of fire, fingers brushing up against the fabric of the hakama and <em>not</em> feeling up his thigh like some kind of hedonistic pervert.</p>
<p>Grimmjow made a weird sound as Ichigo watched his eyes flutter a second before closing, and while Ichigo really,<em> really</em> wanted to explore why <em>that</em> happened, he needed to get the fire. Patting around the hakama pocket once more, he felt the smooth, cool glass and pulled it out slowly, letting the skin of his hand brush against Grimmjow’s muscular thigh just <em>once</em>. Pulling his mouth away with a soft <em>pop</em>, Ichigo snatched the vial all the way out and threw it to the waiting tengu, who held a carefully blank look on their face.</p>
<p>Ichigo noticed them catch it as he was mostly too preoccupied by Grimmjow’s stunned face, eyes shooting back open, to see Kyoga pluck a couple feathers from his sleeve.</p>
<p>“Well, that’s one way to get the job done,” the tengu said as Ichigo felt two soft feathers slip into his otherwise fisted hand. Grimmjow was still staring. Ichigo could feel the blush creep up his neck and into his cheeks and ears. He had just kissed Grimmjow. Ex-espada in Aizen’s hellish army, arrancar and bastard extraordinaire. And damned if he didn’t enjoy it.</p>
<p>“Kurosaki,” Grimmjow growled out, eyes narrowed and teeth bared, breath hitting his face. Ichigo was sure he looked as embarrassed as he felt. At least the birds didn’t seem to care on way or another.  </p>
<p>“You said make me, what was I supposed to do!” Ichigo yelled as he threw himself back, dodging a rogue clawed hand for the snarling arrancar.</p>
<p> Gathering reishi for footholds in his feet, Ichigo raced into the air before Grimmjow could completely pin him down and murder him violently, but the man gave quick chase. <em>At least he’s not chasing after that damned bird anymore,</em> he thought as he dodged a poorly executed kick to his side. Maybe he had been jealous, but that was a thing for later.  </p>
<p>And if Ichigo saw a small dusting of pink across Grimmjow’s cheeks as he ran after him through the air, yelling incomprehensibly in a flurried mix of languages, he’d think about that later, too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've only got one other part in mind, but if anyone has any suggestions, I'm all for it! I'm gonna switch back to Kingdom Crumb for a bit though before I finish off this one. Kudo's and comments are always more than welcome! I hope everyone is staying safe!!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>:D<br/>I dont' remember if Kisuke was ever shown cooking anything, but i lowkey hc him of being just...god awful. I think its hilarious.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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